


I is for Inn

by chileancarmenere



Series: Alistair Alphabet [9]
Category: Dragon Age
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-05
Updated: 2012-02-05
Packaged: 2017-10-30 16:26:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/333720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chileancarmenere/pseuds/chileancarmenere





	I is for Inn

It’s been so long that they’ve been camping and having to go without washing that Alistair wonders if he’ll commit some hideous faux pas at the inn that will completely embarrass Kaillian. Perhaps he’ll neglect to change his socks, or eat his stew with a fork. He imagines Kaillian trying to explain it away.

“No, really, he’s not like this normally, we’ve just been in the backcountry for a while. I promise, he even knows how to use a butter knife.”

Right.

Fortunately, the inn is small and homey, with much more comfort than pretension to style. They wouldn’t have been able to afford it were it not for those peculiarly well-equipped darkspawn, whose gear had netted them a tidy sum. When Leliana spotted the inn on the way to Denerim, she insisted on it, saying that she wouldn’t be caught dead going into Denerim looking the way they all did. Alistair chose to take it as a simple statement of fact rather than an insult.

The dinner is warm and filling, and they enjoy the luxury of not having to clean up after it; lugging the pots to a nearby stream and burying the food further away from the camp so that it didn’t attract wild animals. A quartet of traveling musicians stopped at the inn the same time as they did, and after dinner they strike up a merry tune. Kaillian taps her feet in time to the music, and it isn’t long before she’s up on her feet and holding out her hand to Alistair.

“Dance with me?”

“Oh,” he blushes. “I don‘t dance.”

“I’m not a gifted dancer either,” she laughs. “I just like doing it. Pretty please? Otherwise I’ll have to ask Zevran.”

“ _Mia bella_ ,” the elf in question says languorously, “you have only to say the word. Perhaps I shall teach you the Antivan tango.”

That does it. Alistair is up on his feet in an instant, with Kaillian’s warm, callused hand in his own. The musicians confer for a moment, and then play the familiar opening strains of the Remigold. At least he knows the steps to this one; he did pick up a few useful things in the Chantry, after all.

He spins her through the quick steps, his muscles remembering the dance as though it were only yesterday that he had last performed it. Leliana claps in time with the music and even Wynne hums the rhythm. As the music reaches its ending crescendo, Alistair twirls Kaillian around and finishes with a dramatic dip.

She giggles up at him. “You’re a liar.”

“Your accusations wound me!” Alistair pulls her up and puts a hand to his heart. She pushes him playfully. “You said you didn’t dance.”

He shrugs nonchalantly. “I’m just full of surprises.”


End file.
